Growing up on a farm in Indiana with three older brothers gave me a unique boyhood. My oldest brothers, Danny and Terry were 8 and 6 years older than me and each were a very different brother to me. Danny, my oldest brother, loved sports and was the first to teach Jerry and me the basic skills of baseball and basketball. Jerry was only 2½ years older than me, so I found myself competing with him in all sports.

Our Baseball Field

Jerry and I would stand in our self-proclaimed “baseball field” which was no more than a rectangular grass field in the front yard as Danny would hit high flies to us. Each of us would chase after the high fly and try to get to it first. This was no easy thing for an 8-year-old to do with a 10-year-old. Danny also took the time to read to me and instruct me on how to do things. I remember him to always be kind to me even when he was angry and always supportive of me.

Terry who was 6.5 years older than me was an intellect and he fascinated me with all the experiments and projects he would do. He had a chemistry set, electronic motors, switches, model rockets, box kites, radio sets, and a minibike. He was the most interesting person in my childhood. I decided to begin my education and career as an electronic technician because he fascinated me with his electronic projects.

Danny and Terry were hard workers on the farm. At the age of 12 and 13 they took over the milking of the 8 or 10 cows we still had on the farm. My Dads plumbing business was doing well enough that he didn’t want to milk anymore and told Danny and Terry that they could keep the profits if they wanted to keep the cows and milk them. They did this until they graduated. Milking before school and before supper twice a day and bailing hay in the summer to feed the cows took a lot of their time. They both did this for extra money however Danny especially loved the farming life.

Little kids

Danny and Terry always called Jerry and me the “little kids”. If there was a chore to do, they would say “let the little kids do it”. I didn’t like the term since it was usually said to either blame or give chores to Jerry and me. The little kids can take out the garbage, the little kids can stay at home, the little kids did it. So, as it happened our family got split into “little kids” and “big kids” and we paired up like that in the bedrooms we shared and in our playtime.

Terry liked to experiment with different types of chemicals like solid stones when wetted making gas for lanterns to sticky goo made from petroleum and plastics. Sometimes he would let me upstairs to Danny and his bedroom to show me what he has made.

Eating Soap

One day, Mom and Dad went into town and Terry was in charge when I was about 10 years old. This was unusual as Terry seldom looked after us as he was too busy with his own projects or work. Terry was talking to me using his “little kids” accusations about how we are spoiled. I got angry and told him to F*** off. He told me “ I will make you eat soap for that” I told him that he couldn’t make me eat soap. At that time, I ran, he on the other hand didn’t run after me but to the bathroom.

When I saw a bar of soap in his hand, I thought I could beat him outside where he would tire running after me and it would be over. Running seems to make one think about their anger and soon come to a decision it’s not worth it and stop running. This has worked several times on Jerry, and I assumed it would on Terry. It so happened that Terry was smarter than that. Instead of chasing me around the house he faked a move to his right and when I went left he cut me off at the front door. I was caught with him on top of me and his legs on my arms with his crotch on my chest. He had the bar of soap in his hand. I told him with my teeth closed and gritting “you can’t make me eat shhhoooop”. He proceeded by pushing the bar of soap between my lips and moving it back and forth across my teeth. The soap began sliding through my teeth as the taste of Camay creamy suds filled my mouth. His point was well understood.

Timber

When I was 11 my older brother Terry asked me to help him pull down a dead tree at the side of our house that was still standing. The elm tree had been dying for a few years and was rotting at the trunk. I thought it would be interesting seeing it go down, so I followed. Terry thought he could just push the tree down with the front of the 1950 Ford 8N tractor.

1950 Ford 8N tractor

I stood in the yard at a distance and watched. After several tries the tractor could not get enough traction so he asked me to get a log chain from the barn so he can pull it down. As a dutiful brother I went to the barn looking for the 24 ft. chain. After looking underneath smaller chains I finally saw the mammoth “log” chain. The barn was 50 yards from the tree and I needed to carry it there. A 40 lbs. chain is very difficult to carry for a kid of my size so I put some of it on my shoulder and I dragged the rest behind me to the tree. As I approached, Terry began pushing the tree again from another direction. To my surprise I found myself with a heavy log chain wrapped around my shoulders and Terry yelling “timber”. I looked up and saw this massive 30-foot tree falling directly for me. I began to run, however with the chain around me I didn't move fast enough and before I took two steps it fell on me.

The branches of the tree had pinned me to the ground. I began yelling and crying. My brother jumped off the tractor and found me under several branches scratched and bruised but not “hurt” in the meaning that a farm boy uses. That is, I was not bleeding profusely, I did not appear to have anything broken and I was crying. All signs that things will be better in a few minutes. Terry began laughing out loud as I laid under the fallen tree. He asked me “didn’t you see I was pushing the tree in your direction?” I told him “I was pulling the chain to you and couldn’t look up”.

You wait till your dad gets home

Terry started to laugh again and then I yelled “Mom, Mom” in the voice that all mothers know something is very wrong. I wanted her to make things right. My brother’s actions could not go unpunished. I was dutifully getting a log chain for my brother and he fell a tree on top of me. And on top of that he didn’t even feel sorry about hurting me. Instead, he was laughing at me. Mom came out of the house and saw me on the ground. I expected her to say to Terry “you wait till your Dad gets home” as this can be the worst punishment that a mother can inflict on a child. Instead, she said “Terry, what happened” I cried “he pushed the tree down on top of me and broke my back” as I was sobbing crawling out from under the tree. Terry said, “He’s not hurt, he will be Ok”. Mom said, “Be careful what you’re doing, or you could hurt someone”. Hurt someone! What did she think he did to me? I was wronged, almost died from a tree falling on me and all she could say is “be careful”. She didn’t even say “That is it Terry Lee Pearson, wait till your Dad gets home and he will give it to you “. What an injustice. I took my sore body and my hurt self-pride and stumbled in the house to lick my wounds still steaming about the injustice I was served.